7 Broken Beyond Repair
by A Person Who Likes Comedy
Summary: She wished that she had parents that loved her. Friends that truly cared, without that, was life really worth it? Slight Fanboy/Francine Rated T for Suicide


It's not like she wanted it. She never did. She had always wanted to be normal, to have people who liked her and accepted her.

She wanted parents who'd love her, know she existed, treat her like a person.

She wanted to be happy. But she never was.

Of course she had her moments of happiness, the times she spent with Yo and Lupe and the few others she liked.

The moments she had with Fanboy were always her favorites.

The boy she had fallen for, the twitchy freaky comic lover. He was special, different, nice, he would never judge her. Ever.

And she had her best friends Yo and Lupe, both good in their own ways. Yo was the sweet perfect girl, Lupe (enough said).

But it was never enough.

She felt like an attention whore when she spoke her emotions. When she admitted to having the thoughts she had.

It was the worst possible feeling for her, becoming what you hate. Hating yourself and every little thing you did.

Every movement there was something wrong. It must be her fault her parents don't love her. It must be her fault Fanboy doesn't love her. It must be her fault no one loves her.

Razor blades to wrists can only fix the pain so much, and it doesn't last. It doesn't end it. Nothing will except for ending all of it.

All of it, it being life.

Being in a foster family she never had a positive outlook on life, and never would. But being stuck the way she was, so frustrated and sad, with no way to fix it... She was damned from the start.

She knew people would miss her, they'd told her that themselves. But she knew they'd get over it. Because really, what else did she do in her life except being a bitch to people? She was never that person that'd comfort people, or do anything to help.

She was a nuisance to everyone.

"Bye Lupe." Francine sighed as she stepped out the door. She had been at her best friend's house, for a Disney Movie marathon sleepover. It's just something her friend wanted to do, and Francine went along with it.

It was nice to do something at Lupe's house for once.

Francine had stayed at Lupe's house for a week a while ago. Why? Because of Anonymous messages.

It may be something stupid for her to get so upset about, but it hurt. 47 messages telling her people hated her and wanted to kill herself, all anonymously sent on Tumbler.

They were the worst two days she could think of. When she got all those messages in less than two days. It was horrible and unbearable and Francine had almost done it then. That's why Lupe had been there.

To make sure she was stable.

But she wasn't. She never would be. She's a foster child, there's bound to be problems with her from the start.

She knew she was screwed. And she tried to accept it.

Francine walked silently from one house to the other. It was cool out, being around 6:00. She had spent all night and all day with her friend, laughing and having fun, getting her mind off of the horrible thoughts she always had.

But as soon as she was alone again, she was brought ban to the horrible mindset she was all too familiar with.

She silently unlocked the door to her house, and walked up the stairs. Her parents' cars weren't in the driveway, and her brother was no here to be seen.

So she was home alone.

But even if the others who lived there where present, she'd still just silently go up to her room. Staying out of the way. Not wanting to start something.

She opened her door and threw her Bag aside, somewhere onto the floor. She'd probably trip on it later, not like she really cared.

The first place she went was too her bed, she opened her laptop and started it up. She looked around until she found her giant purple headphones.

She needed some music. Music was one of the things that kept her holding on. Without it... Who knows.

Her laptop was ancient, but it still worked sometimes. She was able to get on the Internet with it, so it worked enough for her.

She opened up Chrome, and went straight to Tumbler.

That's where she spent a lot of her time on the Internet. She can talk to everyone without actually having to talk to them, and feel like she's being social even though she's not.

Uh-oh.

When she had logged in there were messages. In her inbox.

When most people saw the little pop up Red box with a white number in it, they got excited. Happy that someone had something to say to them.

Not Francine.

She gets terrified when she sees it.

The number was 8.

She took a deep breath before clicking on it. As soon as she did she regretted it.

_Anonymous Asked: You should just die already._

_Anonymous Asked: You. Are. A. Bitch._

_Anonymous Asked: Why is your face so wierd? Did you get hit by the ugly stick?_

_Anonymous Asked: How are your scars?_

_Anonymous Asked: Did you kill yourself yet?_

_Anonymous Asked: your brother is so sexy, what happened to you?_

_Anonymous Asked: Hey Bitch :) When you finally kill yourself, and go to hell, Tell Satan I said hi;)_

That was not at all what she wanted to see, at all whatsoever. She just frowned and posted them all without responses. One or two she put a sad face or a tear face, but besides that they were blank.

She had given up on actual answers way back when she got the bigger amounts of them.

"Great. Just great." Francine said out loud, about those messages.

She really needed the music now. Her headphones were in position, but she hadn't played anything yet.

She opened a new tab, clicked on the station for "Camisado- Panic! at The Disco". She pressed play, but nothing happened.

She checked to make sure she had put her headphones in the correct spot, and they were. But no sound.

"What the heck?" She mumbled to herself adjusting the cord, trying to see if it'd play.

She began to hear static and a crackly version of It Will Rain by Bruno Mars, it was better than nothing.

This song always made her sad. Even when it wasn't all crackly and bad quality. But it was usually the beautiful kind of sadness.

Right now it's making her the depressed kind of sad.

She went back to tumbler, only to see more messages. These ones weren't mean though. They were telling her she was pretty and they liked her hair.

Sympathy.

She didn't want sympathy. She only posted those messages so people would know why she was feeling sad, not because she wanted them to feel bad for her.

She wanted to be done on tumbler. Lupe and Yo didn't appear to be on, so she had no one to talk too.

Typical.

When she needed people the most, they weren't there.

Not that she blames them. Yo and Lupe are so perfect and beautiful and the best friends Francine could ever have.

Sometimes she was even jealous of Yo. She wishes she could be as kind to everyone and be as sweet and just be a nice person.

Instead of the waste of space she's stuck being.

Francine heard a car door slam, interrupting her quiet music and sulking.

It was probably her Mom, she usually got home before her Dad.

Her mom entered the house just as silently as Francine did, except she went to the kitchen rather than her room.

Francine was hungry. She had had breakfast at Lupe's, but that was at least 7 or 8 hours ago. She had skipped lunch because... Well they were watching movies instead of eating meals.

After a few minutes another car door opening, and being slammed shut, was heard. Then the angry loud footsteps of her father, and the doorbell being rang.

Even though he has a key, and the door wasn't even locked anyways, he always rings the bell. Must be too much effort for him to actually open the door.

The walls in the house were thin, and the people were loud, so Francine could hear everything downstairs.

"How was your day Richard?" The mother asked, she was probably starting some sort of food.

Before her father even spoke, it was obvious his day hadn't been good. Between the stomping and slamming, anyone could tell he wasn't in a good mood.

"Shitty." He grumbled. "What's to eat?" His low, but nasal, voice was always grumbling. Grumbling, mumbling, or yelling.

"Well since Andrew isn't home and it's just the two of us, I'm making steak." Her mother's also nasally voice just sounded bitchy.

Way to forget about your daughter once again.

Not like this was uncommon, forgetting to feed her, forgetting to bring her places, forgetting to pick her up from places, forgetting she existed.

She felt so invisible.

They wouldn't even notice if she was just gone. Dead.

Francine didn't want to hear their voices. But she didn't really have a choice.

Besides, she had to deal with things she didn't like all the time.

People, situations, life.

It was 8:00 by the time her parents were eating, without her. She could hear knives and forks and smell food.

She was really hungry, but if she went down there her parents would yell at her for something.

Without Andrew there to protect her, she was afraid to go down while they were there.

She, unlike many other kids, doesn't keep food in her room. She should start doing that.

Andrew didn't really either, and it's not like she could get in his room. He got 7 locks installed on the door. Usually they use it like the panic room when their parents get too horrible to deal with. But she couldn't get in without him.

She got off her bed and began to walk toward his room anyways, just to see if the door might by some chance be unlocked.

"C'mon, " She whispered under her breath as she tried to turn the knob.

It was locked. Ugh.

"Shoot." Francine sighed in defeat. She was about to head back to her room when she began to hear footsteps and a conversation, coming up the stairs.

She panicked and ran into the bathroom.

"So the little bitch asks why I didn't get that report in on time, and I tell her to back off! And she threatens to fire me!" Her dad's voice.

She's in the bathroom, door locked. Her back is pressed against the wall, her breathing slow and steady, she's trying to be as silent as possible.

"Can't you just fire her?" Her mother's voice that time.

They're footsteps kept going, walking until they faded away and a door slam was heard.

Francine was too terrified to open the door. She didn't want to make a noise and make them come see her.

She did step away from the door. She walked over on her toes silently to look at herself in the bathroom mirror.

"Oh Jesus." She whispered at her reflection.

There were bags under her eyes and she just looked so miserable. Her hair was slightly messy, but besides her expression looked fairly well put together.

She looked so sad. So broken.

She hated looking like that. She didn't want to look at herself anymore.

But that mirror was right in the middle of the room, it was hard to be in the small bathroom and not look in the mirror.

She remembered the mirror doubled as a cabinet, and just opened it up, making the mirror now face the wall, and several bottles of various medications visible.

Medication... Sleeping pills.

That was where her eyes went immediately.

Her mother's sleeping pills.

Nearly a whole little bottle of them.

She didn't know what she was doing anymore. She was on auto pilot.

She grabbed the bottle and brought it closer to her. She uncapped it.

"I'm sorry Andrew."

She poured each of the little white saviors into her hand. Her hand was full of them.

She didn't even know why. She didn't understand why she was doing this.

"I'm sorry Lupe."

She just knew she had to. It'd be her escape. She'd get to go to the better place.

She filled up some of the Dixie cups with water.

"I'm sorry Yo," She whispered.

Her eyes beginning to well up with tears.

She felt them drip down her face, they were cold.

She put one in her mouth.

She downed a cup of water and then two more of the pills.

More water, more pills, more tears, more I'm sorrys.

Until the whole bottle was empty.

She was whimpering.

She didn't really know what was happening.

Everything was spinning, nothing was there anymore.

It was all breaking apart.

She stumbled to her room, having to grip things for balance.

Not caring whether or not her parents heard her at this point.

She made it to her bed.

Tears still coming out of her eyes and sobs out her mouth.

She put her head on her big pillow.

She moaned one last thing before closing her eyes.

"I'm Sorry Fanboy."

-/-

She wasn't found until a day later, when Andrew came home. He hadn't heard from Francine the night before or during the day, so he came home.

He knew she'd be home, because he'd seen Lupe, who had said she went home.

When he walked in the house he called out her name. He kept calling and getting no response.

He ran up the stairs and into her room.

Seeing her sleeping. He wasn't too worried.

Until he went to go wake her up.

When he put a hand on her face to try and wake her up, she was cold.

Lifeless cold.

And when he took a better look, there was absolutely no color on her skin. If anything it was somewhat grey.

He put his hand on her wrist, no pulse.

He kept calling her name and crying.

Crying was not normally his thing.

But one of the few people he had cared about was gone.

He ran to the bathroom to try and wipe his own tears away, and saw the empty pill bottle and cups of water.

The service had so many people at it.

It was intended to be small, but so many people came.

The Parents were probably the happiest people there, not a single tear shed by either of them.

It's like they didn't even care.

Like they didn't care their daughter killed herself.

_While they were in the house._

The day of the service was the day Andrew moved out of the house.

If his parents were so cold and uncaring that they wouldn't even get upset at their only daughter's funeral, then he couldn't live with them.

Not like they'd miss him either.

People like them should have never had children. Because all it causes is pain and sadness.

The Foster family was broken from the start.

But now it's beyond any repair.


End file.
